


Everyday Heroes

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Series: Adoption AU [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Adopted Children, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Adoption, Aphasia, Bed-Wetting, Dogs, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Jemma Simmons, Kid Leo Fitz, Kid Skye | Daisy Johnson, Nightmares, Parent Melinda May, Parent Phil Coulson, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-08-09 17:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16454246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: Phil and Melinda's little family faces everyday challenges.Chapter 1: Jemma gets stung by a bee and has problems dealing with it.Chapter 2: Phil comforts Fitz after a nightmare.Chapter 3: Every child is sick or hurt from time to time. This chapter is about May and Phil's family's medical misadventures and how they handle them.Chapter 4: The Coulson-May family is getting even bigger when Melinda decides they are ready for a dog.(Part of my Adoption AU series, but can definitely be read as a standalone! You find background info in the notes.)





	1. Beekeeper

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't want to read the other fics in this series before this, here are the basic background information for this collection of snippets:  
> \- Melinda adopted Jemma when she was four years old (Before that Melinda was in a special police unit, but she eventually retired)  
> \- Jemma met Leo Fitz in school, befriended him and sometime noticed that his father abuses him.  
> \- After his father hurt him badly, Leo was in a coma and suffered brain damage. When he woke up, Melinda adopted him too, while his father went to prison. At some point, Leo decided that he wants to be called Fitz instead, and everyone accepted that (Fitz basically has the same symptoms here as in canon: aphasia and a tremor in his hand.)  
> \- After a while, Jemma befriended Daisy in school, who was adopted by Phil Coulson, after she had been in a lot of bad foster families. (that's why she has major fear of loss now)  
> \- Phil and Melinda eventually fell in love and finally decided to be one family together.

“MUM!"

Melinda startles when she hears the scream and almost drops the shovel she was using to remove some of the obstinate weed, that tries to grow over her carrots once again.

She turns around, seeing Jemma standing barefoot on the other side of the garden, holding her hand in front of her face. Her eyes are widened in shock and a whimper escapes her open mouth.   

“Jemma … darling, what happened?” Melinda asks worriedly. She gets up, ignoring the distant ache in her back, and quickly walks to her daughter.

Jemma exhales a sob. She shakes her hand. “Ouch,” she whines. Then she looks down to her feet and sniffles. Her eyes quickly fill with tears. “Mum … I wanted to look at the flowers and watch the, the bees. And suddenly I felt something on my arm and I startled … I slapped the … I … the bee, mum …”

Melinda understands and sighs relieved. It’s just a bee sting. She knows for sure that Jemma isn’t allergic. The sting will maybe burn or itch for a while. But she guesses it’s nothing a bit of ice, a plaster and a big piece of chocolate couldn't fix.

“Show me your hand, little bumblebee,” she says gently, reaching for Jemma. She wants to see if the stinger already fell off or is still sticking to the wound. Maybe she can cheer Jemma up when she tells her that they can keep the stinger as a reminder … But her daughter doesn’t even react to her voice. She’s staring down at the small bee that’s laying in the grass. Her lower lip starts to tremble.

“Jemma, love,” Melinda says softly. The worry comes back, when she sees how upset her daughter is.  She carefully lays a hand on Jemma’s shoulder. The girl flinches slightly, then turns her head to look at her. “Mum,” she whines.

“Does it hurt, darling?” Melinda asks gently and frowns. It shouldn’t hurt _that_ much, but maybe …

Jemma wrinkles her nose and looks down at her hurt hand, as if she’d already forgotten it. “No … but the bee, mum. The bee … it’s …” She sobs again.

Finally, Melinda understands that her daughter isn’t in tears because of the sting, but because of the dying bee.

 _Oh Jemma_ , she thinks. _My little, kind, loving child ..._

She opens her arms and immediately her daughter is pressing against her, her tears soaking Melinda’s shirt. „It’s going to die, mum. It’s going to die because I was stupid! Please can you save it, mum? Please!” Jemma babbles, her voice tumbling while she frantically pulls on May’s arm.

She looks heartbroken.

Melinda sighs. “I’m sorry, darling. We can’t save the bee. But if you like, we can bury it, alright?”

Jemma sniffles. She wipes her nose and nods.

 

A little while later, they put the bee on a tissue and into a little box, which formerly contained a few biscuits. Jemma thoroughly digs a small hole beside the flowers. After she covered the box with earth again, she lays a single flower on the grave and Melinda almost tears up herself. She’s watching her daughter’s first direct contact with death …

When they’re standing in front of the grave, Jemma whispers tearfully, “I’m sorry, bee. I’m sorry, I … I really didn’t want this to happen. I’m sorry.” She stops, sighing heavily.

Melinda hugs her close.

*

The rest of the day, Jemma is unusually silent.

But when Melinda asks her, if she wants to talk, she shakes her head and goes away. It’s not really a surprise. Melinda knows from experience, that Jemma has difficulties talking about her own feelings. She cares a lot about others, including her siblings, and has no problems talking about them, but when it comes to her, she’s often very secretive. Melinda hopes that Jemma doesn’t think she could be intrusive if she talked about herself. But it’s without doubt a possible explanation for her daughter’s behaviour. She decides to wait and not push her.  
  
At dinner, Jemma’s picking around in her food, a frown on her face.

“How was your day, Jemma?” Phil asks friendly. He spent most of this Sunday in his workroom, writing a whole bunch of pages for his newest children’s book, while Daisy was napping in his lap. .

Jemma looks up at him. She opens her mouth, but then closes it again. She blinks quickly a few times, tears filling her eyes. Melinda isn’t surprised, when she starts crying again. Daisy flinches at the sound and drops her spoon. She stretches over the table to pat Jemma’s arm and manages to hang her sleeve into a bowl with cranberry sauce in it.

Phil frowns. He throws Melinda an asking look. She sighs. “Jemma got stung by a bee today,” she explains.

“Oh. That’s annoying. I hope it didn’t hurt too much?” Phil asks gently.    
  
It’s the wrong question and Jemma sobs loudly. “I _killed_ it,” she gasps. “I killed it and I feel horrible!"

Fitz stops eating, shakes his head at her and rolls his eyes. Melinda frowns. Fitz didn’t have a good day either. He’s still recovering from a strong flu, that has bound him to the bed for almost a week and even required a home visit from his doctor. Fitz’s immune system isn’t the strongest and for a day, Melinda was so worried about his rising fever, that she already saw them driving to the ER. But fortunately, the medications and bedrest worked well enough. Still, the flu prevented him from going to the science museum with his class, to which he was looking forward to for almost a month. He begged May to let him go although he was feverish and his whole body was trembling, but she just tucked him back into the bed, ignoring his protest. Now he’s still coughing from time to time and has trouble to breath. It’s obvious he’s in a bad mood. And when Fitz is in a bad mood, he can be rude without really noticing it.

Melinda expects him to say something not really sympathetically about Jemma’s feelings regarding the dead bee. And she’s right.  
  
“Why you’re crying b-b-because of one s-s-single bee. There are thousands of b-b-bees, you know. They’re everywhere …”

Jemma reacts to this in a way that’s so not _her_ , that it shocks everyone.  

She slams her hand on the table hard, grits her teeth and jumps up. She starts to scream at Fitz, who leans further back in his chair with every word. “IT WAS ALIVE! AND I KILLED IT! AND BEES ARE WONDERFUL GENTLE CREATURES THEY WON’T EVER HURT ANYONE ON PURPOSE AND THEY ARE SO IMPORTANT IF BEES DIE WE DIE TOO …!”

Daisy’s mouth drops open. She stares at her sister, absently wiping her sauce-soaked sleeve on her pants.

Phil’s hand holding his spoon hovers in front of his mouth unmoving, while he stares wide-eyed at his screaming daughter.

May just watches the scene calmly and thinks: that escalated quickly …

Finally, when she has no breath left to scream, Jemma stops. She looks around and notices, that everyone is staring at her. She swallows, turns around and quickly runs upstairs.

They hear the door to her room slamming shut.

Phil and Melinda look at each other. They have a silent talk and it ends with Melinda implying that she’s going to talk to their daughter. Right now. She gets up, putting her fork on her still full plate.

“Mum,” Fitz says subdued. “I …”

Melinda shakes her head. “We’re going to have a talk later, about being rude when someone’s obviously sad,” she tells him with a raised eyebrow, and he gets even smaller in his chair.

Daisy giggles nervously and looks at her dirty sleeve like she just now noticed it. She wrinkles her nose and shows it to Phil.

While Melinda’s walking up the stairs, she hears Daisy saying cheerfully, “Look dad, I’m a cranberry zombie now, argh!”

*

Jemma’s laying on her bed, her face hidden in the pillow.

Melinda sits down beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Hey bumblebee. You’re going to talk to me?”

Jemma sniffles. She raises her head from the pillow and squints up at Melinda. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry I yelled, mum.”

Melinda shakes her head. “Let’s forget that for one moment. Talk to me about the bee. It’s bothering you so much, love. Don’t keep things that make you sad or angry inside of you, Jemma. Let it out. Share it with me or someone else you love. That’s what family does, you know? Sharing both the good and the not so good things, so you’re not alone with your thoughts or emotions. So talk to me. What are you feeling?” She asks, tapping a finger on Jemma’s chest, where her small, yet so big heart is beating.

Jemma looks at her and takes a deep breath. “I’m so mad at me right now, mum,” she says. “This bee had a purpose and I killed it. And I know … I know that there are a lot of other bees … but it doesn’t make this any less terrible, mum! Because this bee lived and now it’s dead and, and when it’s dead, it can’t come back home with pollen and help the other bees guard their home or …” She stops, sobbing again.

Melinda sighs. She feels both happy and sad. Happy to have a daughter, that cares so much about even the smallest living beings on earth, and sad, because Jemma’s big open heart makes her so vulnerable.

She strokes her daughter’s hair. “You didn’t do it on purpose, bumblebee. It was an accident. You know, there _are_ people, who hurt animals because they can and don’t care about them. But you’re different. You care a lot and that’s good. We shouldn’t forget that every living being is important. It’s okay if you’re sad about the bee. But love, things like this happen. They happen all the time. This was an accident and it doesn’t make you a bad person, Jemma, okay?”

Jemma nods, a weak smile spreading on her face. “Yes, mum. I understand. I will try to think of all the bees I can support and save instead, but I won’t forget this bee. Never!”

Melinda nods. “That’s it. Now do you think you want some dessert? And we should have a talk with Fitz … I’m sure he already feels bad about upsetting you."

“Okay, mum.”

 

A few weeks later, when it’s Jemma’s birthday, Fitz gifts her a book about bees which he bought from his own saved money and listens with a smile, while Jemma tells him about all the good attributes bees have.

“Sometime,” Jemma says seriously. “I’m going to be a beekeeper.”

“But … You already want to be a, a, um, a vet,” Fitz says, grinning.

“I can be both,” Jemma shrugs.

Fitz hums in agreement. “Can I help you, when you’re making honey?” He asks.

Jemma nods. She knows how much her brother loves honey on his pancakes.  
“You can. But only if you promise to always be careful around the bees."

"I p-p-promise."

They smile at each other.

 

A bee flies past them, its legs covered in yellow, powdery pollen.


	2. Sleepless Monkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil comforts Fitz after a nightmare.

Phil stares at the empty piece of paper in front of him, tapping the end of the pencil in his hand against his chin in an even rhythm.

From somewhere, he hears bells announcing midnight and sighs heavily.

It seems like his muse is hiding behind all the other thoughts that are troubling his mind today.

The last two days were tough. Melinda is staying in hospital with Daisy overnight. The little girl had to have her appendix removed. She had been in extreme pain and Phil thinks he will never forget how his baby girl was screaming and crying, begging him to do something to make the pain go away. She looked so small in the hospital bed. Small and vulnerable. He wipes a hand over his face, his stomach clenching when he remembers those terrifying hours.

It’s no use trying to force the ideas today, he decides sometime. He still has more than enough time, to finish his newest children’s book. Maybe, tomorrow will be a better day for writing. And when Daisy is back, she can help him. She’s always a great inspiration, with her bright, colourful fantasy. Phil smiles, when he remembers how Daisy once sat on his desk and told him seriously that she's going to write books too one day. He doesn't doubt it ...

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream from above rips Phil out of his thoughts and he flinches violently. He drops the pencil and is on his feet in a heartbeat, hurrying to Jemma and Fitz’s room.

There is a second, more hoarse scream, that gives Phil a goose bump. He knows who the screams are coming from. Fitz … Again. It’s the third night in a row. The boy seems to get no break in this week …

He opens the door, his eyes seeing nothing first. He gropes around for the light and switches it on.

Jemma sits upright in bed, blinking into the void confused. “Mommy?” She murmurs barely audible.

Phil looks from her to Fitz, who lays on his back, his eyes closed. He squirms and exhales heavy sobs, that sound like he’s choking on something. The blanket and the sheets are tangled around his small body. His pillow lays on the floor.

Phil quickly crouches down beside the bed, laying a hand on Fitz’s shoulder carefully. “Hey. Hey buddy,” he says. “Calm down. You're safe. It was just a nightmare …”

Fitz opens his eyes abruptly. Phil sees the panic in them and his throat clenches. "Hey," he says again, trying to smile comfortingly. "You're safe, Fitz."

Fitz sobs, his eyes quickly filling with tears. His breaths are shallow and way too quick. He sounds like he's about to hyperventilate.

Phil strokes through his son’s tangled, sweat-soaked curls. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He asks calmly.

Fitz opens his mouth and closes it again. It seems like he’s searching for words, but they are escaping him. He makes a frustrated, desperate sound. “I …,” he finally gets out in a stifled voice. “I … I can’t … I … can’t breathe!” His hands start to pull at the neckline of his pyjama frantically. “Can’t …”

Phil takes both of his hands and squeezes them gently. He starts to feel slightly sick, because he can imagine, what the contents of that nightmare looked like ... Sometimes, he asks himself, what he would do, if he stood in front of Fitz's biological "father" one day. He doesn't know if he would be able to prevent himself from giving the man a good imagination of what he did to this wonderful boy ... He pushes the somber thoughts away. Fitz needs him right now. “You can breathe. You're safe. You just have to calm down. Breathe with me, buddy. Slow and deep.”

Fitz whimpers and shakes his head. But after a moment, he tries to adapt his breaths to Phil’s.

“That’s it,” Phil praises him. “That’s it. Just breathe …”

They do just this for a while. They breathe together and Phil strokes through Fitz’s hair in a calm, even rhythm. Soon the panic in his son’s eyes starts to disappear and makes place for frustration and sudden shame. Fitz exhales a sob and tries to hide his face in the tangled blanket. “I … sorry,” he mumbles into the fabric. “Sorry …”

Phil lays a hand on his shoulder. He understands immediately. “Hey … it’s alright. There’s nothing to be sorry or ashamed for. We get you showered and into a new pjyama quickly, alright?”

Fitz swallows. After a moment, he nods.

Phil strokes his hair one last time. Then, he gets up, to pull a new pyjama out of the drawer.

“Dad? Dad, I help?” Jemma’s voice sounds small. She still sits upright in bed, Phil realizes. Her eyes are only half open but filled with a mix of confusion and worry.

“Go back to sleep, little star,” Phil tells her gently, making her lie back down again, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “I got this.”

“Okay Daddy,” Jemma whispers and closes her eyes. She falls back asleep almost immediately.

Phil goes back to Fitz. He pulls the blanket away and helps Fitz to sit up. The boy makes a pitiful noise when he sees the stain on the bedsheets.

“Don’t worry about it,” Phil tells him, lifting him up carefully and pressing him close to his chest.

Fitz lays his head on Phil’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

Phil carries him to the bathroom.

*

After a warm shower and a change of clothes, Fitz seems to feel better. The tears have dried and he yawns a lot. But when Phil asks him, if he wants to go back into bed now, he immediately shakes his head and puts his fingers into his mouth, chewing on them.

“Okay,” Phil says and thinks. “Do you want to sit on the couch with me for a while?”

Fitz nods.

After Phil quickly put the wet pyjama into the washing machine, he lifts Fitz up again, carrying him into the living room. Fitz breathes into Phil's ear slowly and evenly, his arms tightly wrapped around his neck. He seems to be calmer now.  

But when Phil tries to let him down on the couch, the boy clings to him, making a distressed noise.

“Okay,” Phil mumbles, instead carefully sitting down with Fitz still in his arms. “It’s okay. I won’t let go … Do you want to watch a Disney movie maybe? Let’s see …”

He switches on the Tv. After changing the programme two times, he finds an animal documentary. He smiles, when a small, red monkey is jumping from one tree to another. Just the right programme for Fitz … “Hey look,” he says to his son. “Monkeys! What are those red ones called again, huh?”

Fitz looks at the screen, his fingers in his mouth again. When he sees the animal, his eyes widen slightly. He takes his fingers out to say, “A T-t-tamarin.”

Phil smiles. “Wow. Wish I could keep apart all those kinds of monkeys,” he says and Fitz smiles weakly.

They sit there for a while, watching the animals of the rain forest and listening to the calm, even voice of the narrator.

Fitz’s body relaxes slowly and he sinks against Phil heavily. His eyes start to fall shut and after a while, he seems to lose battle against sleep.

Phil smiles and strokes his son’s hair.

After a while, Fitz starts to snore softly. His hand still holds on to Phil’s shirt. Phil catches a glimpse of the boy’s fingers and frowns. The skin is dry, irritated and cracked in some places. One knuckle even bleeds slightly. He really has to find a solution for this. Fitz has to stop hurting himself. Phil can understand if the chewing and nibbling is calming him down, but he can’t bite his own fingers bloody.   

When the documentary is over, Phil carefully stands up and carries Fitz back upstairs.

Since he still has to change the wet bedsheets, he puts Fitz into his and Melinda’s bed for the rest of this night.

When he’s finished, the world outside is already getting brighter. The darkness of the night slowly changes into the gloomy twilight of early morning. Phil yawns, exhaustion filling every cell of his body. He lays down in bed beside Fitz and carefully pulls the blanket over both of them “Goodnight,” he whispers to his sleeping son, hoping he won’t have another nightmare this night. The boy really is tortured by them enough already.

Phil turns on his side with a sigh and soon falls asleep too.

*

In the morning, Phil makes pancakes with chocolate chips. He knows the kids love them.  
  
Thankfully, it’s Sunday, so there aren’t any important appointments for any of them today. But, he remembers with a smile, Melinda will be back with Daisy today. If the doctors allow it.

When he’s finished with the pancakes, he goes to wake up the kids.

Fitz is a bit disorientated, when he realizes, he’s not in his own bed, but after a short moment, he seems to remember and looks down at his hands with a soft sigh. “I’m sorry,” he tells Phil quietly.

Phil frowns. “There’s nothing you have to apologize for,” he tells Fitz.

The boy swallows. He stares at the cracked skin on his knuckles. “B-b-but … I’m annoying. I’m w-w-waking everyone up. Scaring you a-a-all. And … and I should be grown up enough to not … to, to not have _accidents_. Maybe you and Mum d-d-don’t want a child that is, um, so exhausting,” he explains, and sounds both desperate and fearful.

Phil shakes his head, feeling his stomach clench painfully at the worries of his traumatized son. He can’t stand that Fitz thinks he may be annoying to him. “No Fitz. No. Don’t you ever think you’re a burden for me … for _us_. You’re our son. We love you. And all that matters to us is, that you’re alright. Things aren’t always easy, and those nightmares are horrible, I know. But we're going to get through this together. As a family. That won't ever change. We will always be there for you, do you understand?"

“Okay,” Fitz breathes, looking up at Phil with a open expression of wonder in his blue eyes. He abruptly wraps his arms around Phil’s neck. “I love you Dad,” he whispers.

Phil carefully hugs him back. “I love you too, Fitz.”

*

In the afternoon, Melinda and Daisy come back from hospital.

Daisy is already in a way better mood. She shows Jemma the plaster where her appendix was removed and babbles about all the exciting things in the hospital. “They stabbed me with needles,” she says cheerfully, while eagerly spooning up her welcome-back-Daisy-pudding. “They stabbed me with needles and put something on my face and said I have to count to ten – but I only managed to count to two and then everything went dark!” She giggles.

Jemma listens to her stories curiously, but Fitz soon retreats into his room without a word.

Melinda looks after him. “Did anything happen while I was away?” She asks Phil with a raised eyebrow. She already has her suspicions.

Phil nods. “Fitz had a really bad nightmare. When I came into the room, he thought he was choking. It was difficult to calm him down and he wetted the bed. He was very upset.”

Melinda sighs. “Maybe we should extend his sessions with his psychiatrist,” she says. “I don’t feel like his nightmares are getting any better …”

Phil hums in agreement. "There's something else ... I noticed that he's chewing on his fingers or the sleeves of his clothes a lot lately. And last night he bit his knuckles bloody ... I did some research and thought about maybe getting him a teething ring, if he needs to chew on something."

Melinda nods. “That’s a good idea, I guess. If that behaviour helps him to calm down he should be able to do it without hurting himself. And maybe you can also buy some ice cream. Daisy is very convinced that it will help her getting “better” soon.” She smirks.

*

Phil comes back from his shopping with a lot of ice cream, some animal stickers for Jemma and a gift for Fitz.

He finds the boy in his room, where he’s building yet another amazing spaceship with his Legos.

Phil knocks on the door softly, and Fitz looks up surprised. “Hello Dad,” he murmurs, looking aside.

“I bought you something,” Phil says, showing Fitz the black teething ring, he bought. He hands it to Fitz, who takes it with a frown.

“Listen. I want you to try to use this instead of your own fingers, if you feel like you have to chew on something, alright?” Phil tells him seriously.

Fitz swallows. He blushes slightly and lowers his head to avoid Phil’s gaze. “I … I’m not … it’s … I know I shouldn’t um, do it. But … sometimes it, it helps,” he stammers, staring down at his feet, his fingers tightening around the ring.

“No Fitz. It’s nothing you have to be ashamed of,” Phil tells him quickly. “If it helps you, don’t try to suppress it. It’s alright. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself, okay? Chewing too hard on your fingers causes you pain. That shouldn't happen. With the ring, you won't hurt yourself and still are able to calm down."

“Okay,” Fitz mumbles, turning the teething ring around in his hands. "Thanks Dad. I'm going to, to try."

Phil smiles at him. “You’re very welcome. Now what do you think? Pizza for lunch?”

Fitz grins. “Yeah …”

He takes Phil’s offered hand, putting the teething ring into the pocket of his pants.


	3. Flu, Sprain, Dentist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every child is sick or hurt from time to time. This chapter is about May and Phil's family medical misadventures and how they handle them.

Melinda puts the thermometer away and sighs.

“How high?” Phil asks, gently wiping Fitz’s sweaty face with a washcloth.

The boy’s laying on the bed motionlessly, his eyes closed. He’s sleeping, but it’s not a peaceful, relaxing sleep. It’s restless and exhausting. His breaths come in quick, shallow gasps and he coughs violently from to time. His whole body trembles.

Melinda shakes her head and bites her lip worriedly. “Almost 41°C. Phil … He’s not getting any better. No matter what we do.”

“I know.”

Melinda furrows her brows. A hint of cold anger mixes into her worry. “I guess Alistair didn’t care much about vaccination. Exactly like he didn’t care about healthy nutrition or tooth care,” she says bitterly. “Fitz's immune system is a disaster.”

“I know, but it will get better, Mel. Now that he’s checked through regularly.”

“Still. I can’t believe a father would neglect his child so much …”

Fitz coughs again and whimpers. His face contorts in pain.

The pitiful noise goes straight to Melinda’s heart and she shakes her head. She can’t do this anymore.

“I’m going to call his doctor now,” she announces. “I hope she can come although it’s late already. If not, we’ll have to call an emergency doctor I guess.”

Phil nods.

“Daddy? Mommy?” A small voice suddenly calls from the door.

Melinda turns around. Daisy is standing there, anxiously nibbling on her fingers. She looks at Fitz on the bed and her eyes widen. “Mom, Is Fitz dying?” She whines, and a tear runs over her face. She sniffs and sneezes. Daisy had the flu too just a few days ago. But like Jemma, she fought the fever off quickly.

Melinda throws Phil a quick look. She goes to Daisy and lays a hand on her shoulder, trying to force a smile on her face despite her worry and tiredness. “No. No darling, no, he’s not dying. Don’t worry. Fitz is just very sick, but he will be alright. He just needs some medication, you understand?”

Daisy nods, but she still exhales a single sob and holds on to Melinda. “I don’t want him to be gone, mum, please, I don’t want to lose him, I don't want to …”

Melinda strokes through Daisy’s hair. This is once again a reminder of how much emotional baggage their kids are carrying around. Daisy's anxiety of losing close persons is showing up. “Calm down, darling. Fitz’s going to be alright. I have to call the doctor now, okay? Go back to your room and try to sleep.”

Since Jemma is sleeping in Daisy’s room tonight, her youngest girl won’t be alone.

Daisy lets go off her and nods, still looking worried and anxious. “Okay mommy.” She throws a last concerned glance at Fitz and then trots off, her fingers back in her mouth.

Melinda sighs and goes to call doctor Langdon.

*

Phil and Melinda watch anxiously, as the doctor checks Fitz over, who is still not waking up, but squirms around, whimpering slightly, when she presses the cold stethoscope to his chest.

“Did he get enough fluid today?” The doctor asks.

Melinda bites her lip. “Well. Until he fell asleep, he drank a lot of water and we gave him some chicken broth. But he vomited two times and after that we weren’t really able to wake him up again.”

“I see.” Doctor Langdon puts her stethoscope away and looks up at May frowning. “Since his immune system isn’t the best and he’s had seizures in the past because of his brain damage, I’m going to give him a shot of antiviral medicine. It’s going to stop the virus from spreading and should lessen the time it takes him to recover from the symptoms. But if he doesn’t get any better soon, we might have to get him to hospital,” she says, and Melinda closes her eyes for a moment, the imagination of what that means is clear in her head. He would be touched by people who he doesn’t know and that would cause him even more stress.

She really hopes the medication will help.

She watches as the Doctor prepares the medication and of course, at that exact moment, Fitz finally wakes up. He blinks up to the ceiling, his eyes slightly glassy, and exhales a sob. “Mum …?”

Melinda hurries to crouch beside the bed and lays a hand on Fitz’s forehead carefully. _God, he’s burning up_ , she thinks. “I’m here, love. You’re very sick. But you’re going to be better soon, alright?”

“Hot,” Fitz mumbles.

“I know. It’s the fever. Doctor Langdon is here, Fitz. She’s going to give you something, so you feel better, okay?”

Fitz frowns. His tired eyes fall on the other woman, who's preparing the shot.

Doctor Langdon smiles down at him comfortingly. “I’m going to give you some medicine. It’s going to sting a little, but you know that already. It’s nothing dangerous, and afterwards I’ll give you an extra supply of monkey plasters, how’s that?”

“No … don’t, don’t want to …” Fitz moans and squirms away from her.

Melinda quickly wraps her arms around him and presses him close to her, while simultaneously taking care that the Doctor will have access to his arm. “It will be over quickly, love. You need the medicine to get better, okay? It’s just a short moment, you can do this for me, can’t you?”

Fitz squints up at her. “Okay, mum. I’ll be, be good,” he whispers hoarsely although he’s looking frightened.

She strokes through his hair, feeling tears prickling in her eyes. “I know, love. I know you will.”

Doctor Langdon doesn’t waste any more time. She wipes a spot on Fitz’s arm with antiseptic and then injects the medication quickly.

Fitz flinches in May’s arm and whimpers pitifully.

“That was it already,” Doctor Langdon says, smiling. She puts her things back into her bag and shows Fitz the promised heap of monkey plasters.

He squints at it, then quickly stretches his hand out to grab them, and immediately hides his face in Melinda’s neck again.

When the doctor finishes packing her bag, he's already fast asleep again, his right hand closed tightly around the plasters, while the other one lays on May's shoulder. It's unbelievable hot on her skin.

Doctor Langdon smiles at Melinda.  
“Watch him closely for the next few hours, if he gets worse, call me again.”

“Okay,” May nods. She carefully lays Fitz back on the bed.

The Doctor leaves, and Melinda remains sitting beside the bed, stroking through Fitz's sweaty curls.

*

To Melinda’s relief, the fever soon starts to sink.

Fitz is more alert in the morning and eats some soup without throwing up again.

And he has enough energy to complain and moan, which May considers to be a good sign.

“You will be better soon, I promise,” she tells him, sitting at the edge of his bed, stroking through his hair in an even rhythm. “And when you’re feeling better, you can have something from your wish list, alright?”

Everyone of their kids have a wish list of things, they want to have sometime. They either buy them from their saved pocket money and then cross them out, or Melinda and Phil sometimes buy something of it.

Fitz reacts to that interesting news with raising his head. “Can I have a, a, a monkey?” He asks hopefully.

Melinda sighs, but she smiles. “We've already talked about this, Fitz. Monkeys are no pets.”

“How would you know that, if you've never tried to have one as, as, um, as pet,” Fitz mumbles sleepily. His eyes are slipping shut.

Melinda laughs. “Nice try. Still not happening.”

Fitz only hums. After a moment, his breaths get even and slow. She knows he fell asleep again. She leaves the room quietly, after she wrapped the blanket properly around his small body and closing the curtains. Before she leaves the room, she looks back at him again and for a moment she thinks, that no matter how big her children will once be, they will always stay her little ones, somehow. She just feels it.

  
 

~

 

Melinda is just about to shove the lasagne into the oven, when she suddenly hears screaming from the garden.

She frowns and takes off her kitchen gloves, just as quick steps are approaching.

The next moment Fitz comes running into the kitchen and almost stumbles into her. She stops him with putting both hands on his shoulders. “What happened?” She asks curtly.

Fitz is breathing quick and shallow, and he raises both hands, flapping them frantically, while trying to get the words out. “It's Daisy, she, she, she … she …” He groans in frustration and makes a hand gesture, that indicates something falling. “Tree,” he gasps out.

Melinda gets it.

She inhales sharply and runs outside.

Daisy is sitting on the wet grass under the apple tree in their garden, holding her right arm. Her face is a frozen mask of shock. No tears in her wide open eyes. Yet.

Melinda drops to her knees in front of her. “Daisy, what happened?”

But the girl doesn’t react. She just holds her arm and stares at it.

Fitz pulls at Melinda’s sleeve. “She wanted to … to … to get the, the ball, mum.”

Melinda looks up frowning and sees the ball the kids played with caught between some branches. Oh. “How did it get up there?” She asks with a sigh.

Suddenly, Fitz turns pale. He swallows. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He looks at Daisy and takes a step back. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, his breath quickening again. There’s an anxious look in his eyes now.

“Fitz it’s alright,” Melinda hurries to say. “Such things happen, it’s alright.” She certainly doesn’t need a panic attack when Daisy’s arm is hurt and may have to be treated at the hospital.

Suddenly Jemma comes out of the house, frowning. “What’s wrong? I was doing my homework and …”

She discovers Daisy sitting in the grass and gasps. “Daisy! What happened!”

“Jemma,” Melinda says calmly. “Take your brother and go inside. I’m going to talk to Daisy, alright?”

Jemma nods. She grabs Fitz’s hand and rigorously pulls him towards the door.

He follows her after a moment of hesitance, but throws a half concerned half fearful look back at Melinda.

She sighs. This will lead to a serious conversation later, she knows.

She looks back at Daisy. “Hey, darling, can you let me have a look?” She asks the girl gently.  

Daisy finally reacts and looks up at her confused. “I fell,” she says bluntly.

“I know, love. Come on, let me have a look at your arm now.”

Daisy blinks and looks down at her arm again, as if she just now notices that something’s off with it. She suddenly gasps and now the tears do come. “Mommy,” she sobs, “It hurts!”

She takes her hand off the arm to wipe her face, and Melinda finally catches a glimpse of the injury. She swallows. Yup. They will have to drive to the ER indeed.

The arm is red and swollen visibly. At least she doesn’t see a bone piercing the skin. But it could still be broken …

Now she needs someone looking after her other children while she takes Daisy to the hospital.  

She considers calling Phil but knows he won’t make it sooner than in an hour, since he's presenting his newest children book in another city today.

Instead, she calls their babysitter Bobbi.

The young woman is always so helpful, and the kids love her.

Melinda feels slightly bad about asking Bobbi to come so spontaneous, but is relieved, when the babysitter announces that she will be there in five minutes.

“Fitz may act odd,” she tells Bobbi before she leaves with Daisy. “He threw the ball into the tree and I guess he feels like he’s to blame for Daisy’s injury. So, don’t wonder if he retreats into his room and doesn’t speak. I’m going to talk to him as soon as I’m back.”

“Alright,” Bobbi says with a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this, Melinda.”

“I know.”

Melinda smiles at her. Then, she picks up Daisy, taking care that she won’t touch the hurt arm. She carries her crying daughter to the car and hopes, they won’t stay at ER the whole day.

*

At the end, everything went quite smooth.

Daisy was checked over by a very kind doctor, who gave her a nice, colourful toy windmill to distract her, while he examined her arm.

It’s not a broken bone, but a sprain. Daisy gets a sling for it, which she thinks of as “cool”.  
She’s already in a way better mood, especially, when Melinda drives to her favourite ice cream place after they’re done at the Er. 

The well needed talk about high trees can wait until later, Melinda decides. 

*

When Melinda returns home, everything’s as she expected.

Bobbie plays some board game with Jemma, while Fitz is nowhere to be seen.

Daisy immediately runs to Jemma and proudly presents her sling. 

“Is he in his room?” Melinda asks Bobbi quietly.

“Yes,” the young woman answers. “He didn’t say a word to me. And I didn’t try to push him.”

“Thank you. I’m going to talk to him now. Do you think you could watch the kids a few minutes more?”

“Of course.”

*

Fitz is sitting on his bed, his back leaning against the wall and his knees drawn to his chest. He looks blankly into the void and rocks slightly, barely noticeable, back and forth.

Melinda knows this behaviour. It means, that Fitz is overwhelmed and tries to release the pressure somehow.

“Hey,” she says softly, waiting if he reacts in any way.

He looks up and blinks repeatedly. “Mum,” he says. Then he looks aside. “I’m sorry,” he whispers once again.

Melinda shakes her head. She goes to him and sits beside him on the bed. “What are you sorry for, Fitz?” She asks.

He swallows. “I … because of me, Daisy is, is, hurt. Maybe she will hate me now,” he murmurs and anxiously plays with his hands. “I didn’t wa-want this to happen. I just … I didn’t … I was stupid!” He says suddenly much louder. “I was stupid and now I ruined it!”

He bangs a fist against his head and Melinda quickly catches his hand. “No. No, Fitz. You didn’t ruin anything. Listen. It was an accident. Such things happen. Kids get hurt all the time. You know that, don’t you? How many times did you need a plaster the last week?”

“Um, seven times,” he mutters.

“Yes. Seven times. And sometimes, bigger things happen. Like today. Daisy thought she can climb the tree and she fell. That just happens from time to time. Do you know what this is? It’s not a disaster. It’s learning, Fitz. She learned that this is something she maybe shouldn’t do now, because she’s too young and small for it.”

“But … it, it, it could have been worse,” Fitz says desperately.

“It could always be worse, Fitz. But now _this_ happened. And only that matters. She sprained her arm and now has to wear a sling for some time. And then she’ll be alright. She’s not angry at you. No one is angry at you. Although I really would prefer, if you don’t throw the ball that high, okay?”

“Okay,” Fitz murmurs. He still doesn’t look completely convinced, but he definitely looks less anxious and concerned.

Melinda smiles at him. “Will you come downstairs with me? Then you can take a look at Daisy’s sling too.”

“Um. Okay.” He takes her hand and follows her.

 

~

 

They’re having dinner and it’s a good dinner, because there’s pizza.

Daisy still has her arm in her sling, but she still manages to eat an enormous amount of pizza one-handedly, while handing the crusts to Phil, who puts them on a heap on his plate, to eat them later.

Melinda watches this process, shaking her head, but smiling in amusement. She casually looks at Fitz and frowns. She runs a hand through his way too unruly curls and he makes a protesting noise around the too big piece of pizza in his mouth.

“Your hair is growing like weed,” Melinda says, sighing. “We’ll have to go to the hairdresser soon.”

Fitz gasps and wildly shakes his head. “No,” he says, swallowing. “No! I’m not going a-a-again!”

Melinda frowns. “You liked the last hairdresser we went to. How was her name again … Anne.”

“But she cut one curl too much!”

“Oh Fitz. I’m begging you.” Melinda sighs and stands up. She goes to the kitchen to get the dessert. Ice cream.

When she comes back, everyone’s cheering. Everyone beside Jemma.

“No thanks,” the girl mumbles, when Melinda hands her her bowl.

Everyone stares at her, surprised.  

Melinda frowns. “Why don’t you want to eat ice cream, bumblebee?”

“I … not today,” Jemma says quietly. “Can I stand up, mum?”

“Of course.”

Melinda watches Jemma leave with hanging shoulders. Something about this is off, she knows. This will require further investigation.

*

“What is this about?” Melinda confronts Jemma, when she finds the girl in the bathroom, staring at her face in the mirror, touching her jaw with careful fingers.

Jemma flinches. She looks at Melinda and swallows. “It’s nothing …”

“Come on bumblebee. Tell me. What’s wrong?” Melinda asks softly and wipes a lost strand of hair out of Jemma’s face.

Her daughter sighs in defeat. “My teeth hurt, when I eat or drink something hot or cold,” she whispers, touching her mouth again. “And I … I’m scared there could be a hole somewhere. I know that Fitz had holes in his teeth and when he came back from the dentist he was crying and said it was a nightmare!”  
There are tears in her eyes now. “And I read so much about cavities! And it sounds so horrible. I also saw pictures on the internet. I don’t want my teeth to be black and rotten!”

“Oh bumblebee. You know that Fitz had a lot to be done, because his biological father didn’t care about his teeth or his health in general, so he had to sit still for a very long time and he was scared because of all the noises the tools were making. In your case, the dentist first will check your teeth like you’re used to it, and if there’s something, he will tell us and make another appointment, so we can prepare. And that thing with the cavities doesn’t happen so quick, trust me.”

“Hmm,” Jemma makes uncertainly and plays with the bracelet around her wrist. “Do you think it’s a hole, mum?”

Melinda smiles at her. "I won’t lie to you. It could be one, although I doubt it. It could also be many other things. And I can tell you, the longer you wait, the worse it would get with the pain and the fear. Just get it over with, love. Don’t put uncomfortable things off for too long. Your annual appointment would be soon, anyway.”

Jemma sighs. “Okay. Can you make an appointment, mum? I will try to be brave …”

“Of course, bumblebee. I’m proud of you.”

*

Jemma is indeed very brave.

Although she’s tense, she’s sitting very still on the dentist’s chair and opens her mouth as wide as she can at his instruction.

Melinda watches, holding Jemma’s hand, as the dentist looks at the girl’s teeth thoroughly.

“No cavities,” the man finally says gently, taking his tools away. “Your teeth are looking very fine, Jemma. I think the sensitivity come from the new teeth you just got.”

Melinda nods. “That makes sense.”

“Oh.” Jemma seems relived. “So, are no holes in my teeth?”

“No holes,” the dentist says smiling.

“And the pain will go away?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Jemma says and slips from the chair. She shakes the dentist’s hand, saying “Thank you” very seriously. Then she takes Melinda’s hand, pulling her to the exit. “Come on mum, let’s go home.”

Melinda smiles back at the dentist who waves them goodbye.

In the car she tells Jemma, “I’m very proud of you bumblebee. You were brave.”

Jemma nods. “I tried my best, mum. Can I have some chocolate instead of ice cream today?”

Melinda smiles. “Of course bumblebee. Of course.”


	4. Max

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Coulson-May family is getting even bigger when Melinda decides they are ready for a dog.

It starts when Daisy brings a friend from school home who has a dog.

Of course, her daughter begs Melinda to allow them to bring the dog along. “Rocky is well-behaved, mum,” she promises. “He is never loud! And he doesn’t hunt squirrels.”

She is clearly thinking of Cooper, the little black squirrel that is living in the oak in their garden and Melinda smiles. She combs the knots out of Daisy’s hair which so long by now it almost reaches her bum, and nods. “It’s alright. Thomas can bring Rocky over. I’m going to buy some treats tomorrow.”

Daisy cheers.

When Thomas arrives on a sunny Sunday afternoon, with Rocky trotting beside him, Melinda thinks it’s really a lovely dog. Not too small and not too big. Chocolate-brown fuzzy fur, crooked ears and a universe of love for everyone around him in his shining beady eyes.

While Daisy is showing Thomas her room and the rest of the house, May sits on the porch and pets Rocky, who enjoys every little bit of attention, his tail wagging furiously. May has never had a pet. When she was little, she had asked her parents for a cat or even a goldfish. But they didn't allow it. There was little time for pets.

Melinda looks up when a car stops in front of the house and smiles. It’s Phil with Fitz and Jemma. They did the shopping today. She watches them getting out of the car and can hear Jemma talking about something in such speed that she’s stumbling over her own words. She’s clearly in a good mood. But when Melinda’s gaze falls on Fitz, she frowns. He looks like he’s making himself small, his shoulders hunched up and his head lowered. And when Phil asks him something, he shakes his head and slowly walks away, towards the big oak in the garden.

Melinda senses something happened. She continues to pat Rocky between his ears and waits until Phil and Jemma approach her.

“Oh!” Jemma comes onto the porch, carrying some packs of cereals. Her eyes widen when she sees Rocky and the dog walks to her slowly, sniffing at her hands. “Who’s that dog, mum?”

“That’s Rocky. He belongs to Daisy’s friend Thomas.”

“He’s cute,” Jemma beams.

Phil chuckles. He puts his basket full of groceries on the ground to pet Rocky together with Jemma. When Melinda looks at him questioningly, he says quietly, “Fitz had a panic attack at the store. A man was shouting into his phone quite aggressively. I managed to calm him down, but he didn’t say anything for the whole ride home.”

Melinda sighs. “I’m going to check on him,” she says, already about to get up from her chair. But then, she sees someone was faster. Rocky is trotting towards Fitz, who sits under the oak, running his fingers through the grass blades rhythmically.

They watch, as the dog stops in front of Fitz, tilting his head and making a low whining sound in his throat. Fitz looks up surprised. He blinks at the dog and his eyes widen. Rocky sniffs at his face and wags his tail. Instead of flinching back, Fitz timidly raises a hand to lay it on the dog’s head. Dog and boy are locking eyes. And then, Fitz wraps his arms around the dog and presses his face against his furry neck. Rocky doesn’t move. They sit there in the grass like this and Melinda thinks she can see a little smile on Fitz’s face.

She stares at the image in front of her, until Jemma pokes her into the arm and says, “Mum, look. They like each other. Fitz looks happy. He loves animals. I do too. Can we get a dog too, mum? Can we?”

Melinda looks down at her surprised. “Jemma … Bumblebee. We can’t just get a dog.”

“Why?”

Melinda bites her lip. She doesn’t really have an answer. And that makes her thinking. Why can’t they get a dog?

Jemma is still looking up at her expectantly and Melinda shakes her head. “We’re going to talk later, alright?”

 

*

 

Later that evening, when Thomas left and they’re having a late dinner, Daisy is talking about Rocky all the time. And Jemma – her smart, smart girl – throws in emphatic comments about the advantages of having a dog. It becomes a very long list pretty quickly.

Fitz is quiet. But he empties his plate and his eyes are bright. Despite the incident at the store he seems relaxed.

Melinda doesn’t say anything to the dog-topic, but she continues thinking. And Phil throws her a knowing look from time to time.

 

*

 

When their kids are sleeping and Melinda is laying in bed with Phil, her head on his chest, she asks him, “What do _you_ think about getting a dog?”

She can almost feel his smile. He runs his fingers through her hair and says, “Honestly? I think it’s a great idea. The kids can learn to take responsibility, just like Jemma already said at dinner … She pretty much summarised every good thing about having a dog.”

They both chuckle.

“She forgot to mention dirty paw prints on the floor boards, bad breath hitting you every time you get a kiss or the smell of wet dog,” Melinda says dryly.

Phil laughs and shakes head. “Every good thing comes with a prize. But they would love it so much, Melinda. They would spoil the hell out of the happy dog you bring here … And Fitz,” he continues thoughtfully. “I think Fitz would benefit from it the most. You’ve seen him today … Dogs are silent and undemanding. When he has a bad day and doesn’t feel like communicating with anyone, a dog could still keep him company without overwhelming him. And it could also help when he’s having a panic attack. I bet dogs are sensing them. Could even help to interrupt them.”

Melinda hums. It’s true. A dog would surely help a lot. She remembers back to the moment she saw Fitz sitting there, hugging a strange dog like he’s holding on to a lifeline. And the dog let him do it. Rocky had just been there.

She imagines how it would be, to have a dog in the house, together with three children. It’s a nice image. Long walks through the forest, playing fetch the stick, watching her kids having fun with their new best friend. Sure, it would also be stressful from time to time she guesses. A dog needs to learn manners. But still. She feels like she has already made her decision.  

She probably has made it as soon as she’s seen the joyful glee in her children’s eyes today.

Melinda cuddles closer to Phil and closes her eyes.

*

Three days later Melinda is sitting in an office at the local pet shelter, in front of a kind young woman who is asking her, if she’s searching for something specific.

Melinda shifts in her chair. She hears the loud barking of dogs from the hallway, mixed with some other noises from time to time. The chirping of birds. Even a lout, unhappy meow once.

“I’m searching for a dog that is used to children. I have three. It would be my first dog,” she explains. “And … Well, my son, he’s dealing with panic attacks and sometimes isolates himself. I thought a dog could help him with that.”

The woman nods thoughtfully. “I see. I think I have a young dog that’s fitting your expectations. Please follow me.”

She leads Melinda through the hallway towards the dog kennels. Melinda scrunches up her nose at the loud noises and the combination of different intense smells. She really wishes she could take more animals with her. She’s quite aware that a lot of them must have tragic pasts.

“This is Max,” the woman says. They stop in front of a certain kennel and Melinda sees a medium-large, slim dog with light-brown fur and hazel eyes. He has his head on his paws, but when he notices the two humans, he lifts it and looks at them attentively, wagging his tail slightly.

“He’s a young Labrador. They are often trained to be service dogs for people with disabilities or anxiety disorders. They are usually kind, pleasant and even-tempered. Good family dogs. They get along with children of all age. Max has already been in a family with kids. However, he was brought here not long ago because of a case of strong allergy.” The woman smiles. “He loves affection. And he loves to give it back.”

Melinda nods. She looks into the warm brown eyes and already knows she’s going to take Max home to her children.

 

*

  
Melinda didn’t tell anyone but Phil about her plan. She brings Max home when her kids are in school, letting him sniff around in the house and explore his new home, while she’s unpacking the dog stuff she bought. Food and treats and a lot of toys.

Max seems to like his surroundings. After looking into every room, he jumps onto the couch and lays his head on his paws, looking up at Melinda with happy eyes.

She smiles at him. “Good idea. Take a nap. You’re going to be busy enough when they’re all coming home.”

  
Melinda waits for her children’s return with excitement pooling in her heart. She can’t wait to see their reaction.

  
Finally, the door opens, and her three children enter. Melinda puts the book she had been reading away, gets up and waits for the kids with a smile on her face.

The first one who enters the room is Jemma.

“Hello M …” The girl stops in the middle of the sentence. Her eyes widen. She stares at the dog on the couch beside Melinda and makes a quiet surprised noise. “Oh.”

Max raises his head and jumps from the couch, tapping towards the girl with his tail wagging furiously.

“Oh,” Jemma makes again. Then she crouches on the floor and lets Max sniff at her hands, smiling. “Mum,” she says quietly and looks up at Melinda with teary eyes.

Melinda smiles at her. “Yes Bumblebee."

“Thank you,” Jemma breathes. She giggles when she gets a wet dog kiss and pets Max’s head. “Hello you …”

Next to enter is Daisy. She simply drops her schoolbag and stares at Jemma and Max with her mouth hanging open. She seems frozen in place until Max walks to her and bumps his head against her hand.

Daisy drops to her knees and buries both hands in the soft fur. She laughs brightly when Max starts licking her chin. “Wet!” She squeals. She looks up at Melinda, her eyes sparkling. “Can I pet?”

Melinda nods. “Of course. He’s our dog now.”

Daisy gasps. She gets up to wrap her arms around Melinda’s legs. “I love you mum!”

“He’s _our_ dog?” Fitz asks stunned. He’s standing in the doorframe, nervously chewing on the sleeve of his sweater.

Melinda smiles at him warmly. “Yes darling.”

Fitz swallows. He looks from Max to Melinda and back to the dog. “Wow,” he says quietly.

Max comes to him next, begging for attention. Fitz pets him between the ears and the small smile appears on his face again.

Soon Max is surrounded by three kids, all petting him. He clearly enjoys the affection, showing his joy with a lot more dog kisses for everyone.

Melinda watches and feels good. This was the right thing to do.

  
*

Max quickly becomes an integral part of their life.

He’s always around. When they have dinner, he’s laying under the table, with his head on someone’s feet. When they take a walk, he jumps around them happily, fetching every stick the kids throw for him.

And like Phil figured, he’s good for Fitz. When the boy has a panic attack, Max lays down beside him and is a silent solid comforter. He lets Fitz bury his face and hands in his fur and waits until it’s better. When Fitz doesn’t want to talk to anyone and retreats into his room or the garden, Max follows him and shows his love in a silent undemanding way. It’s perfect.

Melinda is certain that Max helps his son a lot in his recovery. And Fitz’s therapist agrees, when she hears about the dog.

Overall Max is making their life brighter and soon they can’t imagine life without him.

Melinda doesn’t even want to miss the muddy dog paws on her floor boards or the bad breath she and Phil are smelling first thing in the morning, when Max decides to wake them up before their alarm does.

Dog love is pure and everlasting.  

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker and always grateful for being corrected! I'm constantly trying to improve my English, so please don't hesitate to tell me about mistakes. <3
> 
> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


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